


ilomilo

by eugenebby



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: -not cutting, 2011, Angst, Anxiety, Depressed!Dan, Depression, Fluffy Ending, Kinda, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oneshot, Read at Your Own Risk, Self Harm, Slow Burn, Songfic, billie eilish - Freeform, set in manchester, worried!phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:55:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18426288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eugenebby/pseuds/eugenebby
Summary: Dan's childhood best friend unexpectedly passes away, after returning home from the funeral, everything seems different. Is it just Dan's mind playing a devious trick on him or is his world truly falling apart?





	ilomilo

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This oneshot is inspired by/based off of the song ilimilo by billie eilish. Although I listened to her full new album multiple times while writing this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, it's taken me so long to finish. If you do, comments and kudos are super appreciated

The front door closed behind the man, the unpredicted noise scaring him in the process. It’s unsurprisingly cold for an early winters night in Manchester. His numb, freezing cold hands rubbed together in a desperate attempt at friction. He arrived home much later than expected, the flat seemed dark and desolate, lonely.

Phil is somewhere, perhaps sleeping peacefully in his bed, or rather, reading the latest Stephen King novel he’s been hooked on. Either way, it’s none of Dan’s business, or he’s too exhausted to care. He recognizes the fact that Phil didn’t even bother to drop a quick ‘hey’ after he’d arrived home, he brushes it off.

Winter clothing, still cold to the touch from being outside, gets stripped off. He walks back to his room in a weak trudge, collapsing on his bed when he arrives. His vision is covered in black dots from the tiny amount of movement, has he ever been this exhausted? The winter cold is seeping through the cracks in his window, transferring into his bones, making them ache. Eventually, he sinks into the messy sheets and duvet on his bed and falls asleep.

 

Silly of him to even believe for a second that’d he’d be getting much sleep. 

 

He’s awoken to the sound of tapping. Prominent, loud tapping. It’s coming from his closed bedroom door, Dan realizes. Could it possibly be Phil? But why would he be up at witching hour loudly tapping on his bedroom door, he wonders. A strange tingling feeling envelops his hands and feet, a sinking feeling enters his chest.

Dan can’t help but get out of his bed, feet sinking into the soft carpet. He walks slowly and quietly towards his door. He feels more anxious than he’s felt in a good minute. The tapping continues, Dan prays to whatever god may be listening that it’s Phil behind the door, playing a horrible prank and sending Dan into an almost full blown panic attack.

He takes a shaky deep breath as his hand turns the door handle. The tapping stops and Dan is frozen with fear when he realizes that nothing appears behind the door. No Phil, no anything. An empty dark hallway is all that greets his vision.

 

If he wasn’t panicking before, he is now. Breathing has swallowed, hands have begun shaking. Involuntary tears slip from his eyes, he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Phil!” His strained voice calls out. It’s 3:00am, and Phil’s a heavy sleeper. Either way, he hopes with all of the energy left in his body that his best friend would come and comfort him.

 

Phil never comes.

 

Dan sluggishly grabs his duvet from his bed. He wraps said duvet around his body, then curls up into a ball on the floor. He’s exhausted, neurotic, delusional, and desperately needs to sleep. Images of his childhood best friend, laying in the coffin, pale and lifeless, plays over and over in Daniel’s mind. It’s driving him mental. Thoughts of whether or not he could even fall asleep being as anxious as he is flow through his mind.

Eventually, after thrashing around and willing himself to be calm, he falls into the black abyss of unconsciousness once again.

He wakes up, his whole body sore. The room he lies in seems significantly less threatening bathing in late morning sunlight. His tired legs will him off the ground, leaving the duvet in a pile on the floor. A hand is placed on the wall beside him, balancing as well as keeping him from blacking out. Being slow and steady, he makes his way into the hallway.

The beat of his heart speeds up once he exits his bedroom, leaving horrible flashbacks of the previous night in his mind. Everything feels off to Dan, the world, his mind, his well-being. He still hadn’t talked to Phil, taken aback by his avoidance last night, it was completely unlike him.

Dan stops himself from going further, he could send himself into a mental breakdown simply by thinking about him and Phil’s relationship and all of the things he’s done to fuck it up. He visibly shakes his head, willing the thoughts away.

The scent of coffee suddenly lingers in his scent, speaking of the devil. It becomes more prominent as he enters the lounge, he goes straight to the sofa, not bothering with food. The pit of hunger in his stomach is eating his insides, but the thought of food made him want to get sick in that very moment. 

As the sound of footsteps come closer to the lounge, Dan curses himself, He knew this would happen. Phil nonchalantly sits on the sofa across from him and turns on the TV. The younger man’s brain is screaming. How could he be so relaxed? Why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he doing anything?

Dan stares at him, slightly angry, it shows in his eyes. Phil notices.

“You alright?” He asks Dan.

“I’m  _ fine _ .” Dan spits.

Phil’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, what’s the matter with him? He wonders. Considering he’s always known Dan as the type of person to brush any kind of problems off and recover easily, he’s promptly worried by his flatmate’s attitude. Phil was aware of the funeral he’d went to, but opted to stay home. It was one of Dan’s friends from home, he’d be fine, right?

Dan gets up and struggles back to his room, leaving Phil immensely perplexed, by himself in the lounge. The brown haired man needed out, immediately. He couldn’t breathe, Phil hated him, he’s downright fucked everything up within the span of 24 hours. 

He throws on a coat, and a hat, and sunglasses, followed by his shoes. Out of breath, he exits his room, sweeps past Phil fast enough for him to not ask questions, and leaves out of the front door. His feet work quickly down the hallway, then surprisingly down the staircase, not bothering with the lift.

He finds himself standing on the pavement in front of their apartment building before he knows it. Winter air bites at his cheeks and nose, and his breath leaves swirly mist in the air, it’s freezing. Walking ensues, in no particular direction, with no intentional destination.

He ends up wandering the narrow roads of Manchester for quite some time before he willed himself to step inside a shop. His hands and feet were numb, his nose was bright red and burning, and he was exhausted. Complementary coffee and dim lights temporarily soothed Dan inside the small antique shop. 

Eventually he decides to leave, make his trip back home and hope he doesn't get to lost in the process. The streets are beginning to fill up, rush hour, he guesses. How'd it get so late so quick? 

The dreaded apartment building is found sooner than expected, the sun is beginning to set as he enters through the main doors. Taking the lift would be the best idea, he decides, after considering how weak his body feels, and how immobile his limbs have begun to be due to the low temperatures outside. 

Dan doesn't particularly enjoy the feeling he gets as he creeps towards their flat. It's opening a door and stepping into his problems, his fuck-ups.  _ It didn't used to be like this.  _ His hands twist the door handle and open the door. He makes his way into the flat, conspicuously on edge.

Phil is once again nowhere to be seen, Dan descovers. His chest feels heavy, he misses his best friend, the one person he thought would always be there for him. Not being sure of what he did makes things so much worse, the confusion makes him dizzy. Little did he know, Phil was just as confused.

Not wasting time, he walks directly to his bedroom. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially not Phil in that particular moment. Sitting on his bed, he could feel stomach growl. He couldn’t remember having a single meal at all in the past 3 days, explaining his weakness and fatigue. Still, the thought of eating or drinking anything upset his stomach as it is, let alone actually putting in the effort to make something.

He evidently has enough energy to get off his bed and head towards the window. There, he leans forward and cracks it, allowing some of the crisp outside air come inside. Followed by him slumping into the chair in front his piano. If he doesn’t have anything else to do, why not practice for a bit? His fingers naturally position themselves upon the keys, and begin playing the intro to moonlight sonata, which he’s been perfecting for a bit. Very appropriate for his grim mentality, Dan thinks.

~

The other man through the wall sits and hears everything. Phil used to find Dan’s playing to be peaceful and calming, something’s changed, though. It leaves him with a heavy feeling in his chest now, worried to no end. The muffled piano doesn’t help with the melancholic mood the night holds, he longs to help his friend, but knows better than to intervene. Instead, all he can do is sit and listen.

After awhile the playing slowly stops, but there's no footsteps. Dan probably played himself to sleep, Phil suspects. He isn't satisfied though, we wants to make sure, he needs to go look. 

So he does, he gets up from his bed and quietly walks out of his bedroom. He quietly creeps down the hallway until he's stood in front of Dan's door. It's cracked just far enough for Phil to peer in. Just as he had expected, the younger man is hunched over on the desk on which his piano sat, snoring quietly. 

Upon further glance, Phil's heart hurts. Dan's noticeably thinner as well as paler. He could only imagine the bags under his eyes. This is the first time he's got to chance to look at him properly in almost a week. Phil is lost, he doesn't know what happened and he sure as hell doesn't know how to fix it either. Nothing like this had ever happened within the time that they've known each other. 

He lets out a deep sigh and walks back to his bedroom. Phil doesn't think he's going to be getting much rest, but he tries nonetheless. He ends up lying in bed wide awake for what feels like, and ends up being: hours. That is until he finally hears something through the wall.

It starts with quiet moan-crying sounds, belonging to Dan. Phil sits up in his bed, trying to hear what's going on a bit better. At first thought, Phil believed that Dan was most likely having a nightmare and sleep talking as a result of it. 

“No, go away!” He yelled much louder in the other room.

Phil was worried. The nightmare sounds rough and Dan's obviously being troubled by it. 

He hears a loud gasp coming from behind the wall. 

“Phil!” He hears a quiet voice let out, trembling from what he was presuming to be terror. Phil gets up, scared of what he'll find. He runs to Dan's door and opens it immediately.

Dan is sat in the same chair Phil last saw him in, this time, Dan's eyes are wide and filled with shock and his gaze is unshifting towards the doorway. This was definitely not a nightmare, Phil wasn't sure what it was.

~

Dan suddenly realizes Phil is there, standing in the entrance to his bedroom, a worried expression painted on his face. He remembered calling out to him, he didn't think he'd come. His anxiety wasn't close to being gone, that was one of the most terrifying things the man had ever witnessed. Was it even real?

Phil walked closer to him, what was he supposed to say? Dan didn't think Phil gave a slight shit about him since he's come home, but maybe his judgment is slightly off. 

“What happened, Dan?” Phil asks in a low, steady voice. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Dan's tone was harsh.

“Please, don't do this, not right now. I'm worried about you.” Phil practically pleaded him, eyeing him for his reaction. 

“Oh yeah, ‘worried.’ Like you've been so goddamn worried since I came back from the  _ funeral _ , right Phil? Making sure I was okay? Asking m-”

“Shut up, Dan!” Phil shouts, interrupting him. 

Dan stops talking, but Phil's heard enough. He turns around and quickly leaves Dan's room, slamming the door on the way out. 

At this point Dan just feels numb. Everything was too much for his mind at once, so it shut down, leaving him feeling possibly worse than he did before. He understands what people mean when they say they simply wouldn't mind dying. He gets it.

Without Phil, he's nothing. It's no longer about him, his rapidly deteriorating mental state, or his deceased childhood friend, it's about Phil. He was the last thing Dan had, now he's gone. Years of feelings and love and generally the best times of his life so far thrown away and it's his fault.

Dan realizes he's even worse than he'd thought he was when he stands up. He places his hands on the desk to steady him but his world is entirely blacked out and his ears are ringing. When he's finally able to stand all the way up he can hardly ponder what is going on anymore. Exiting his room, he slowly makes his way to their kitchen in search of sleeping medication he'd once been prescribed.

He finds them, takes a couple, then promptly walks back to his room. All that was left was waiting for them to kick in, which was always fun. He wouldn't mind waiting for the pills to kick in, knowing there's hours of blissful nothingness awaiting him, but there's a chance  _ he'll  _ show up.

Either way, Dan sprawls out on his bed, his duvet still sat in a monochrome pile on his floor. He stares straight at the wall across from him, he knows Phil's behind it, probably getting rest. Or rather staying up and planning ways to tell Dan he's kicking him out. It'd be well deserved, he thought. 

He can slowly feel the drugs begin to take effect. A velvet blanket has been draped across his world, and for once in lord knows how long, he isn't thinking about anything in particular. He can feel himself melting into the bed, sinking lower down into his pillows. It's a comfortable state.

Then he's out. He's almost immediately brought into a sedated state, with no chance of it being interrupted. He won't be dream, he won't think, he'll momentarily cease to exist in his own world.

        ~

        Phil doesn't sleep well, he tosses and turns and goes through miserable hours of delusional half-sleep. A blurry rendition of the past few days, including a significant amount of Dan. 

           When he wakes up, his whole body hurts, he has a headache and momentarily forgets where he is. The clock on his bedside table reads 11:35a.m, which is much better than Phil thought it'd be. 

          No noises come from the lounge or kitchen, nor the bedroom through the wall. Dan must still be asleep, or has conspicuously left the flat again. The man pulls his duvet to the side and gets out of bed, putting on his glasses in the process. He's on a hunt for coffee, which has become a typical part of his daily routine. At least he still has that to hold onto.

          The warm drink soothes him and he's finally able to sink into the sofa with a new anime to watch and a cozy blanket draped on top of him. Thoughts of how nice it'd be with Dan next to him in that moment are pushed to the back of his mind. They're forbidden for the time being.

          Phil doesn't even realize that it's been hours he's spent staring at the TV, he looks away and blinks his eyes, slightly tired from the strain. He should probably get something productive done.

          His mind has other plans, he can't help but notice how it's the middle of the afternoon, and there's been no sign of Dan. Phil had checked to see if his flatmate's shoes were gone, they weren't. He's not sure why he's still sleeping, but he leaves him be. 

         The effort he puts into willing himself to not think about Dan is impeccable. He doesn't want to think about the fighting, or how bad his best friend looks, or how he hadn't ate anything at all since he's come home. Phil's worriedness grew bigger everyday, even if Dan had treated him like shit, he's still his best friend.

        ~

       Dan woke up a quite a few hours later, a pool of sweat surrounded him. The feeling of grogginess and disorientation came almost immediately after waking up. His world was still draped in a velvet blanket, except now it caused confusion rather than relaxation. He was unsure of whether he'd be able to get out of bed or not. 

      His limbs were numb and weak, his skin was ten shades paler than usual, and he was cold to the touch but was sweating profusely. He recognized that he'd need help to move, and it killed him. 

      The only option was to call for Phil, that or lying in bed for hours staring at the wall. He props himself up, and clears his throat.

        “Phil!” Dan attempted to yell. He couldn't hear anything, he assumed he was being ignored, nonetheless he tries again. 

        “Phi-”

         His door swings open, Phil stands in the doorway with a worried look on his face. He takes a couple of steps closer to Dan.

        “Are you alright, I heard you call my name.” Phil says. 

        “I need help. I'm not going to be able to get up and go to the lounge by myself without passing out.” Dan says firmly, acting as if he isn't afraid to be asking for help. 

        “Oh Dan, let me help you.” Phil's voice dropped. He walked up to the side of Dan's bed, he had a hard time making eye contact. 

        “I'm going to make you something when we get you to the lounge, you have to eat something.” Phil whispers, partly to ease his mind for a moment. 

        “I can get myself to the edge of my bed, but I'll need your help standing up and walking.” Dan hoarsely states, ignoring Phil blatantly. 

       He throws his duvet back and swings his legs around so he's sat at the edge of his bed. Phil crouches down a bit as he positions himself next to Dan, throwing his arm around his shoulders. It's a strange feeling to be this close to each other after the distance has taken over the past few days. 

       Phil's able to pull Dan up to a standing position, although Dan's legs are bent at the knee and he somewhat resembles a character from the hunchback of notre dame. He has no idea how they're gonna get to the lounge, Dan had to put a lot of his body weight leaning on Phil, and Phil isn't necessarily a bodybuilder. 

     “Let me know if I'm too heavy, or if you need to put me down.” Dan says in a voice so quiet Phil can barely understand him. He's temporarily shocked, recognizing that it's the nicest thing he'd said to Phil since he came home.

    They hobble in the direction of the lounge slowly but surely. They're both hyper aware of the close proximity they shared, Dan, able to smell Phil's aftershave. Phil was more focused on getting him to the sofa, and getting some food in him.

   It goes better than expected, they take it slow and make it to the sofa without any complications. Dan knows what's coming when Phil immediately walks off to the kitchen, he's not excited. His stomach turns uncomfortably at the mere thought of consuming something. 

   Nearly 5 minutes later Phil returned holding a plate of toast as well as a glass of water. He sits it in front of Dan. A sudden wave of panic hits him, he pushes the food back and turns to Phil with a pleading look. 

     “At least drink some of the water, Dan.” His voice was low and dragged with hints of sadness.

      Dan reached forward and grasped the cup in his hand. The rim of the cup travels to his mouth and he takes a few sips. He's so dehydrated, it's almost as if he can feel the lack of fluids keeping his body working. 

      “I really am worried about you, Dan. I don't know how to fix this or help you.” Dan can feel the other man's eyes on him as he talks.

        “I don't know, Phil. Don't worry about me.  _ This will be over with soon and everything will be fine. _ ” It was an obvious lie. Miserable or not, he didn't want to hurt Phil anymore than he already had. He still held onto the now nostalgic soft memories of them together. 

        “If you at least drink that glass of water, I'll leave you alone. I won't talk to you unless you need anything, if that's what you want.”

        It isn't what he wants, but he picks up the glass of water anyway, not responding. 

        They sit there for a solid 10 more minutes in silence, waiting for Dan to finish his water. As soon as he did, Phil stood up, grabbed the dirty dishes, and left. Dan sighed.

        He ended up turning on a movie and zoning out into it for a few hours, by then it's night time and Dan gets an uneasy feeling. Unnaturally anxious, he decides he wants to go back to him bedroom. He can't ask Phil for help again, he doesn't need to be pitied. If his body cooperates, he'll walk, if not, he'll crawl. 

        The lounge is too open for him, the confinement his tiny bedroom holds eases his mind a bit. He finds out that crawling is the better option, his arms still shake as he struggles towards his door. He feels pathetic. 

       He ends up making it without alerting Phil or hurting himself somehow. His now weakened arms pull him up the side of his bed, he's yet to pick up his duvet. It's not like he needs it, Dan thinks. 

      The realization of how slow time is going, how agonizingly long it's going to take for tonight to be over with, hits him suddenly. Everything seems to drag on, whilst also being horribly boring. Nothing was enough to entertain his mind anymore, nothing was enough to shut up his chattering mind. 

      Perhaps he'd finally hit the point he'd been afraid to hit, rock bottom, the lowest of the lows. He's dipped his foot in that realm a few times, drinking way too much for a teenager, ‘forgetting to eat’ on multiple occasions, he's no stranger to the concept of rock bottom. This is worse, though, much worse. 

      As soon as he begins thinking, it takes off as a spiral in his head. He's sick of this, worried how long it's going to last. Oh God, what if he's like this forever, what if he never goes back to the fun-loving, cynical, Dan everyone knows him to be?

      His breathing picks up, he's so tired. He wants to cry until his body gives out from exhaustion. He wants to leave, he's not sure how much longer he can deal with this. He wants to be held.

    The panic hasn't worn off as a tear runs down his cheek. More tears follow, coming out on their own. Dan leans forward, resting his damp face in his hands. He desperately wants to know what he's supposed to do, begging someone to tell him, ‘god’, the universe, a wish on a fucking star for all he cares he just needs to know.

       If it were completely up to Dan, he wouldn't be here for much longer, he admits to himself. Phil doesn't want anything to do with him anymore, his life is tormented by mental illness, it all seems pointless to him anymore. Part of him wonders how Phil would react. The thought makes his stomach turn. At least he would not longer have to deal with him.

       Even if Phil hated his guts, he couldn't do that to him. The man had been through enough already. Dan sniffles into his hands, he misses Phil the most out of everything. All of the time they've spent together, the bond they built in such a small amount of time, and it's all been thrown away, for what? 

       If he had a star to wish on, he'd ask to make up with Phil, have everything go back to normal. 

     Dan lies down, his eyes heavy from crying. He's surprisingly tired, although if he laid down, he'd likely only be getting a few hours of sleep, he figures. Either way, he doesn't really care and decides to flutter his eyes closed anyway.

 

     It's the middle of night when he wakes up, he instantly knows. There's something heavy and warm covering him, he takes a deep breath to breathe but it sucks back into his lungs and his eyes pop open. It takes a second for him to calm down and for his eyes adjust. 

     When he's able to see well enough he comes to find that it's simply a duvet covering his body. Upon further notice, it's  _ Phil's  _ duvet, covering his body. He's momentarily confused, questioning how it got there and when. 

      That is, until he hears it again. Scratching,  coming from his closet door. Dan knows it's  _ him.  _ He's frozen with fear and his heart feels as if it's going to leap out of his chest. He wraps the duvet completely around him and slides to the ground as quietly as possible. Dan can't let  _ him _ hear him.

       He begins crawling as fast as he can towards his bedroom door, the closer he gets the louder the scratching gets. He's never been so afraid in his life, as long as he can get out of his room he's fine. His arms are weak and giving out on him, though, making him unsure if he'll make it.

       As soon as he flings his door open, crawls into the hallway, then slams it shut, he collapses on the ground. He's disoriented, but safe nonetheless. Filtering in and out of a conscious state, he doesn't notice Phil's door opening, or closing, or the other man coming to his side.

      Suddenly a warm hand is placed against his forehead and a low voice speaks,

      “Dan? Dan, why are you lying out here? What was that noise? Are you okay?”

       His eyes open slowly, focusing enough for him to see a concerned Phil looking over him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he wasn't loud enough to wake Phil, was he?

       “Can you hear me?” He asks. 

       “Yeah.” Dan mumbles. 

Phil's practically cradling his head in his arms now, he really doesn't mind, it's the most comforting thing he's experienced in awhile.  

        “Can I take you to my bed?” Phil asks after a moment. 

        “Yeah.” Dan isn't sure why he agrees. 

Dan's able to walk with Phil's help, he sits Dan down at the side of his bed. He recognizes the man is somewhat incoherent, from what he isn't sure but he uses it to his advantage.  

       Phil walks to his wardrobe and pulls out a comfortable t-shirt as well as a pair of shorts. He goes back to Dan, points to the man's shirt and asks,

    “Can I take this off?” Dan, somewhat understanding what Phil is doing, nods. Phil pulls the dirty shirt over the younger man's head and replaces it with the soft, clean shirt. He does the same for the shorts Dan wears. 

     Dan watches as he discards of the dirty clothes and then returns to sit next to him on the edge of his bed. 

      “Thank you, Phil.” Dan says, looking at the ground. Guilt runs through him, why is Phil doing this? After everything Dan had put him through, and he's just as kind as before. “I've been so shitty to you, taken things I shouldn't have out on you and you've been nothing but supportive.” He vocalizes his thoughts. 

      Phil nods, looking at the ground as well.

     “Have you ever thought about why, Dan?”

     Dan pauses, remembering all of the times he's over-thought things within the past week. He'd never thought about it, always too busy entertaining the thought of Phil hating him.

     “I'm not sure.” He admits. Phil shakes his head, you can tell it's driving him near as mad as it is Dan. All of its getting to be too much and they're afraid everything might burst.

    “Maybe it's because I've been worried about you? From you not speaking to me to hiding away in your room to not eating anymore. Or maybe it's because I care about you so much more than you know and I wanted to help you but you were pushing me away and I didn't know what to do? Ever considered that, Dan?” His voice waivers as he finishes speaking. Dan taps his feet to distract himself from showing too much emotion. It all hurts, he hates knowing that he did this to Phil, caused him to feel like that.

     “I never meant to upset you. I didn't know, hell, I  _ still  _ don't know what to do, Phil. Everything has been so much to deal with and I didn't want to put it on you. Not to mention that I was convinced you hated me, and I didn't blame you.” Dan's voice dropped at the sight of Phil's saddened expression, he knew this would happen. 

     “It's funny,” Phil starts, “it's always been quite  the opposite of that.” He turns to Dan, who he's just noticed has tears prickling the sides of his eyes. “I could never hate you.” 

      “Then please, tell me how to fix this.” He looks at Phil with pleading eyes, begging for an answer, wanting everything to go back to normal. Phil just wants to pull him into a hug and never let him go, but he respects Dan's potentially  sensitive boundaries.

        “I don't know, Dan. What I do know is I'm willing to help, you just have to let me. I've tried on multiple occasions since you've been home to help you and you haven't allowed me to.” Phil pauses, “I want to help, Dan. Please let me.”

       By now, the tears have fallen down Dan's cheek, Phil can't resist the temptation to reach up and wipe the tears away with his thumb, Dan catches eye contact as he does and shows a small appreciative smile. 

         “I'll let you, I can't handle things being the way they are anymore.” 

          “Can I hold you?”

          “Please.” Dan replies. 

He slides next to Dan and wraps his arms around him. He pulls the two of them closer. Dan's head rests in the crook of his neck comfortably, he could stay like this forever. The feeling of being held being the warmest, most loving gesture he's been shown for awhile, so naturally, he wants to soak it in.

        “Do you want to move? We can lay on my bed, or not, if you're not comfortable with that.” Phil suggests. 

        “That'd be nice.” Dan breaths out and Phil untangled himself from the hug. Phil reaches up to fluff up his pillows and assists Dan with getting to where he needed to be. He collects the duvet that'd been discarded long ago and lays it out on the bed, partially on top of Dan. He can tell the younger man's worn out, he has a reason to be. 

        “Do you want to get some rest?” Phil asked, laying next to Dan and covering himself up with the duvet part way.

       “Yeah, but Phil?” Dan turns to him, eyes fluttering, most likely heavy from fatigue.

       “What is it?” Phil asks. 

       “Please hold me again.”

So he does, his arm is around him and Dan's head rests on his chest. Phil rubs small circles into the sleepy mans side with his hand. He can tell he's almost already out, and he's not too far behind him, Phil thinks. 

       Right as he's about to close his eyes, he hears a mumble that vibrates his chest.

       “Goodnight, Phil-”

       “Goo-”

       “I love you.” 

       “Goodnight,  Dan, I love you too.” Phil mumbles back, slightly taken aback, but filled with warmth nonetheless. 

       And so they sleep, in each others arms. Completely out of harm's way, safe and peaceful in the presence of the other person. ilomilo.

**Author's Note:**

> You made it through, thank you! I really hope you liked it. Feel free to check out my tumblr @/soulfulhowell, I'll follow back lol.


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